Childhood Survived!

I have been a parent for over 30 years now.  My mother has been a mom for over 66 years. My grandmother has been a mother for 89 years. Over these years I suspect parenting skills, at best, have improved in some ways, and no doubt have at least changed in many others depending upon the mode of the day and technology.

For instance, the use of 'Mother's Milk' which was probably used in Grandma's day changed to using corn syrup and canned condensed milk warmed up in a glass bottle in my Mother's time of feeding infants. This was accompanied by the practice of putting soothers into the sugar bowl  before being offered to a colicky crying infant (which is in stark contrast  to the more primitive calming method of rubbing vodka or home brew on its soft spot).   Some of these maternal practices, along with the  use of the softest of pillows and placing them at the bottom of the baby carriage in dry cleaning plastic to keep it clean , have thankfully gone by the wayside and have been replaced with more sanitary, safer, and saner maternal practices.  

Diapers in those days were flannelet and were held in situ with safety pins which sometimes were not so safe.  No plastic cap snap pins in those days, nor were there Velcro closing fasteners for cloth diapers either. Paper diapers weren't hardly even a choice 30 years ago.

As toddlers grew the use of walkers with wheels were the common toy--allowing the youngster to whiz around the kitchen and/ or down stairways at speeds not otherwise experienced by a small child until they at least learned to ride a two wheeled bicycle.

Car travel held its own perils during my childhood years.  The most obvious danger in cars at the time was that they  were made of  an all metal exterior and interior. They  weren't even equipped with turn signals or seat belts. The closest thing to car seats for children on the market would have been a metal pet carrier. 

The then solution for many a family?

                               The large shelf under the back window of the car.

  This kept the child out of the way from unbelted sibling car antics and within sight of the driver in the rear view mirror.

BTW--being 'belted' in the car had a whole different meaning in those days to an errant child who asked once too often , "Are we there yet?"

The importance of being 'belted in'  has always been a priority for me with  my own children as I hearken back to the  'pre belting' day of my childhood when, as we were traveling down the road with my mom at the wheel and I in the back seat , I noticed that the  door  on the passenger side of the front seat  was rattling.  I distinctly remember telling mom as I leaned over the front seat to grab the door handle, " I'll close it for you Mom.....".

A lesson in Physics thus commenced as it was at the precise moment that I grabbed said door handle  that Mom turned a  sharp corner (there was definately (I am almost certain) an actual sharp corner in the otherwise flat, straight prairie farm road) and due to the law of Physics called inertia the door swung wide open with my hand and me attached to it.   The prickliness of the grassy ditch and the rolling rolling rolling that was accompanied by my surprise arrival outside of the car did not phase this then five year old.  The calling out  of , "Mom wait for me." as I climbed out of the ditch, was quickly heeded as the car stopped about a 2 minute walk further down the road and I reentered, and our journey continued.  As I think back to this happening,  I have just realized why I can't remember Mom ever referring to this incident again. Nope there is no recollection of her recounting the tale to either my dad or any of her friends.  The more I think of that and being a Mother myself I think I may know the reason.

Living in a rural area, with a Grandma just 2 miles away it was very tempting for a 4 year old to ride her tricycle along the dirt road all the way without telling anyone.  (I distinctly remember Grandma standing on her step waving to me and saying that Mom had just called on the phone looking for me.  I turned the tricycle around and pedaled home as fast as I could.)   The next time I rode that far I told my Mom and she wisely tied a pink ribbon onto the right hand handlebar so I would know which side of the road to drive on both coming and going to grandma's.  She did this especially because there was a road construction crew building the road up and she wanted me to be safe (I'm almost certain of it).

 Using mustard plasters for congested chests,  placing socks covered in Vick's around a child's neck for a sore throat, as well as the placing of a glass mercury laden stick into a sick child's mouth, along with the stern warning of "Do NOT bite on this."  to determine fever level have pretty much gone by the wayside.

 I wonder how many 'new fad' ideas of allowing children to or not to have video games, watch television, or cell phones will be considered blase and dangerous 50 years from now?
 
Perhaps all things will become Cyber such as travel, feeding, playing,  and exercise. Perhaps the need for motherhood traditional care will have gone by the wayside and all the conundrums and traditional methods will be lost and replaced by FINALLY the correct and most logical answers to Child Raising ever to be devised never to be challenged again.

 

Flying

A plane just flew over the yard and I didn't even get up to look at it.  Could I finally have become blase about what used to be cause to drop everything even if it meant leaving the television screen, dish pan, or cat to run out to see 'the plane,  the plane?

  Often those planes that fly low over rural Canada are photography planes that record the bird's eye view of farm yards. After about three weeks of the siting, a car will drive into the farmer's yard  and the salesman will hold out  an irresistible aerial portrait of the farmyard and buildings. Strange how so many people seem to be out in their yards waving at 'something' high in the air just as the plane has passed overhead.  

I am not sure where this fascination with planes came from except that my Dad did serve in the Royal Canadian Air Force during WWII and he thus acquired  an interest in planes and flying.  This interest was also evident in the fact that he attended many many Air Shows at Canadian Forces Base Moose Jae 15 Wing and took his family with him.  Dad also was responsible for our whole family to experience flying in a Cessna with our cousin as pilot.  He also encouraged us to take a ride in a helicopter at the fair one year.

I suppose it's inevitable that  this getting used to what  is in  my mind  a miracle of sorts has finally occurred. I use the term miracle because   we are not supposed to be able to fly.  Our body mass ratio is way out of line for the possibility of  what might be termed as  a personal flying experience no matter what Erica Jong might say about it. 
 I don't believe we were ever really supposed to be able to see 30000 feet straight down to anywhere to either seek out food or sanctuary.  I suspect that is why one can't even breathe real air when one is so high off the ground. Indeed we risk of messily exploding if we were ever just suddenly placed up there without the shield of pressurization. Just as assuredly we were never supposed to land from that height with any degree of safety whatsoever using any of our appendages as blocking tools.  A miracle indeed if one doesn't take into account human brilliance and ultimate human error.

My son was only about 2 years old when he stood on the front steps and watched birds flying in the air.  He pointed to the birds with wonder and awe and I explained to him that they were birds and  that they were flying.  He looked at me quizzically and said, "Boy, fly?"  I replied, in what no doubt has become an unforgivable scarring comment to be written in the annals of Unforgivable  Poor Mothers' Comments., "No.. Boys don't fly". 

 He lowered his head and covered his eyes in disappointment--and no,  he never has flown.

1983



1987

2000